Fight the Fall
by Ecri
Summary: PG to be on the safe side. Thanks for AMAZING reviews! Some Legolas angst dealing with all the deaths and presumed deaths of members of the Fellowship. Movieverse. Spoliers for TTT.


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Author's Note: I have made a few corrections to language and spelling, but the story itself hasn't changed in any major ways.

This is my first foray into the world of JRR Tolkien and The Lord of the Rings. I have long been a fan of the book, and promised myself I would only write bookverse fic if I ever decided to write any LOTR fanfic at all. What's that they say about the best laid plans of mice and men?

I got to thinking after I saw FOTR about Legolas and the elven grief thingthen I saw TTT. This idea hatched and wrote itself while I was supposed to be writing my West Wing and Batman fics. For those of you waiting for those stories, accept my apologies at the delay. I couldn't really help it.

Anything that seems familiar, especially lines of dialogue, are right from the movies. All ideas are inspired by the book and the movies. Any lines or scenes that I have taken directly from any other source or are too similar to scenes from the films are in italics. No disrespect is intended.

The scene of Legolas' farewell to Arwen in Rivendell was loosely based on a few seconds of film I saw in one of those behind the scenes things they've been airing on television since just before the film was released.

WARNING: If you have not seen TTT, or if you have not read the books, don't read this fic if you don't want to know what happens. Really. I mean it

DISCLAIMER: JRR Tolkien, The Tolkien Family, New Line Cinema, Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens own this stuff. I don't. I am only borrowing the universe because it's so much fun! I am making no money from this. I am actually making no money at all and am in desperate need of a job, but that's another story.

Please read and review.

Fight the Fall by Ecri

Legolas raced through Amon Hen thinking only to offer help to the mortal men, his comrades, who even now faced the fell creatures of Saruman's creation: the fighting Uruk-Hai. He moved swiftly and gracefully through the wood, sure that Aragorn would hold his own until he arrived. 

The elf was by no means prepared for the sight that greeted him when he passed into the clearing. He slowed to a halt, his heart sick at the scene he surveyed.

Gimli's approach from behind did not cause the elf to turn. His eyes were riveted on the two men before him. He focused on Boromir, hearing the man pledge that he would have followed Aragorn as his king before taking a last shuddering breath, but when Aragorn moved closer to the man, closing the human's eyes and saluting him, Legolas allowed his own eyes to close.

Legolas heard not the soft words Aragorn spoke to their fallen companion, whether because he was not trying or because he was too consumed with grief at the thought of another in their Fellowship falling, he knew not.

The elven prince drew in a long breath and felt a tear squeeze past his clenched lashes and fall slowly down his cheek. How could it be possible that another of their Fellowship was dead? To lose Mithrandir in Moria, and, with no chance to recover, to have Boromir taken by the fell warriors of Sarumanhow could they survive it?

His eyes flew open as thoughts of the missing hobbits flooded his mind. Aragorn and Gimli stood very close both looking concerned.

Aragorn let out a breath he'd been holding, relieved to see Legolas' slightly confused expression. "You did not respond to our calls, Legolas. You seemed lost."

"I am sorry, my friends. Ineeded a moment." 

Aragorn nodded and moved back to Boromir's side. They quickly agreed on how best to bid farewell to the second of their Fellowhip to pass beyond the bounds of Middle-earth. It was not a traditional Gondorian burial, certainly not one suitable for the man who would have held that realm waiting for his king's return, but they consoled themselves with the knowledge that Boromir would have insisted they waste no time with him.

As Aragorn tightened Boromir's gauntlets on his own wrists, garments he swore to wear into battle for the rest of his days in honor of his fallen, redeemed comrade, Legolas realized something.

"You mean not to follow them." It was not a question. He had guessed Aragorn's intention, even as he gestured towards Sam and Frodo, who had already crossed the river,

It was easy enough for Aragorn to convince his companions of the need to go after Merry and Pippin, and soon the three hunters raced through the forest.

***

The scent of the wildflowers that grew nearby and the slight twinkle of the stars that peeked through the trees almost soothed the harried senses of the desperate elf. The lands of Middle-earth were truly diverse and wondrous. Even the three elven realms seemed vastly different from each other, though each seemed in harmony with their surroundings.

Legolas refused to allow his mind to wander, forcing himself to think only of Merry and Pippin. If his thoughts strayed too often to Boromir or Gandalf, he found the grief overwhelming.

They had raced through the forest, Aragorn pausing now and again to read what signs he could coax from their surroundings. When at last they agreed to stop for the night to take what rest they could, Legolas' eyes scanned the horizon, though he knew he would not see the lost hobbits. At most, he might see the dark mass of Uruk-Hai moving swiftly somewhere before them. When he did spot the swift minions of Saruman dwindling in the distance, he envisioned his hobbit friends lost in their midst and thought to send them some signal, some sign that they should not fear, and that rescue was on the way. With nothing to send but warm thoughts, he imagined them all safely back in Rivendell, hoping the young hobbits would somehow feel their spirits lift. While he was thus occupied, he felt someone step near him, waiting patiently.

Legolas smiled without turning. "Aragorn, you should be resting. We will be traveling again in but a few short hours."

Aragorn nodded. "Legolas" he hesitated.

"Speak, Aragorn. What troubles you?"

"Boromir and Gandalf"

"Aragorn"

"Please, Legolas." 

His tone caught the elf by surprise and captured his attention. He gave Aragorn a slight, almost imperceptible nod to continue.

"I was raised among elves. I know the look I saw on your face when you saw Boromir. It was similar to the one you wore just outside Moria."

"Aragorn," Legolas' voice compelled the Numenorean to look at him. "I will not say my heart is not heavy with grief, but my duty is not yet fulfilled. I will not allow my grief to take me while part of our company is held by orcs."

"And afterwards?"

Legolas sighed, a heavy sigh full of disbelief, heartache, and woe. "I cannot tell, _nin_ _mellon_, but as long as you and Gimli do not add to death's claim on our band, I think you will have nothing to fear."

Aragorn was not pleased by the uncertainty of his friend's answer. He shook his head. "You _think_and only as long as Gimli and I live?"

"Please, Aragorn"

"Nay, Legolas, our journey is a perilous one. I cannot guarantee that we will both see the end of it."

Legolas nodded and shared a small, sad smile with his friend. "Nor can I, Estel. Nor can I." 

Aragorn took a step towards the elf as if to offer comfort. 

Legolas held up a hand and took a step backwards, his retreat stopping Aragorn in his tracks more effectively than any word or command might have done. "I can do no better—but to talk of the grief while it is still so near" he broke off as his voice cracked. Tears shone in his eyes, but he would not let them fall.

Aragorn nodded. "Forgive me, my friend. I had forgotten. Humans tend to talk of their loss, while elves cannot bear it."

"No harm, Aragorn. Do not worry over much. You will be able to tell if grief gains too strong a foothold."

"I will?" He blinked in surprise.

Legolas laughed a delicate laugh that surprised his human companion. "Truly, Aragorn, your eyes are so wide an owl would take you for a distant relation! You who have lived so long among elves, have you never seen one die of grief?"

Aragorn shook his head. "Elven grief, I have witnessed. I have only heard tell of death by grief. Imladris has been blessed."

"Indeed! The Last Homely House is as enchanted a place as Caras Galadhon. Lord Elrond has made a haven in Middle-earth." Legolas agreed with Aragorn, entranced by thoughts of the elven realm. "The elves of my realm scarcely know how to behave within the bounds of his lands in the absence of Mirkwood's threats."

Aragorn saw the wistful expression in Legolas' eyes when he recalled how dark a place Mirkwood had become.

"Greenwood the Great may yet be restored, Legolas. Perhaps with the destruction of the ring, Sauron's grip on your home may yet loosen."

"May the Valar hear your words, Estel, and guide Frodo and Sam on their journey. Now, truly, you must get some rest. I will wake you when we may continue."

Aragorn smiled at his friend and lay down by a tree. Soft, elven singing soon sent him to sleep.

***

Silently, the three hunters crept through Fangorn forest. The signs they had read of their hobbit friends, though encouraging, had not conclusively revealed if the pair yet lived. Legolas held to the hope that they lived, for that moment of misery when he was sure they did not—when he'd been certain the Fellowship had lost two more members—was a most unwelcome place.

Legolas listened to the trees wishing for the time to learn what they said. He listened intently, surprised by the age and anger the wood held. It was an ill omen that the trees seemed not to welcome even an elf in their midst. Legolas attention was so intent upon the trees, that the noise of someone approaching seemed a rude, intrusive thing to his sensitive ears. "Aragorn, something is out there." He spoke in Elvish, and Aragorn answered in kind, though his voice was but a whisper he knew would carry to elven ears. 

"What do you see?"

Legolas scanned the area in front of them. "The White Wizard approaches." He spoke in a whisper as well.

Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas each stood still, their backs to the direction from which the noise emanated. "Do not allow him to speak, or he will cast a spell on us," counseled Aragorn. Each of the hunters stealthily drew his weapon of choice, then, all three spun to confront the new challenge.

The light was blinding, but hardly more surprising to Legolas than the feeling of his arrow leaping from his grip as if pulled away by an unseen hand. The voice of the Istar, loud and unwelcome, held him firmly in place. He was helpless, as, he guessed, were his friends. As the light diminished and the voice softened, Legolas realized who stood before him. Instantly, he bowed his head and fell to one knee.

Aragorn approached the wizard calling his name.

The wizard smiled. "Gandalf. Yes, that was my name."

Later, Legolas barely remembered the conversation that followed. Soon, the four of them were galloping on to Rohan with assurances from Mithrandir that Merry and Pippin were in good hands. Legolas' heart sang with the return of Gandalf. Though he still grieved for Boromir, Gandalf's presence among them once more was enough to diminish his pain.

Though all was not yet right with Middle-earth, certainly Gandalf would help them make it so.

***

"You lie!" Legolas snarled at the hideous dying orc. The ferocity in his voice and demeanor brought Gimli's attention away from the Saruman's evil minion and towards his angry and desperate friend.

The orc, seeing the reaction of the Firstborn, grinned in delight at the pain it had caused, then breathed its last.

Legolas' eyes fell to the evil thing's hand. He felt his blood freeze when he caught the flash of silver in the sunlight.

Legolas took Arwen's necklace—the token she had bestowed upon her mortal love—from the yrch's grasp. His grief at seeing it in this vile thing's hand spurred him with grace and speed to the cliff edge. He peered down, dreading the sight that would greet him. Instead of Aragorn's broken, dying body, however, he saw only rock and water. No blood, no cloth or bone, no sign that Strider had ever been. 

Legolas' breath caught in his throat as his consternation at the thought of life continuing without Aragorn doubled at the idea that there might be no body to bury. He sensed Gimli's presence nearby, but continued to scan the valley below for signs of his friend.

Dimly, he heard Theoden, King of Rohan, give orders to leave the dead behind. Thinking that, in his near overwhelming grief, he had misunderstood, he turned to look at the human.

Theoden offered only a look of sympathy, tinged perhaps with a bit of fear at what Legolas might do to him because of that order. He placed a tentative hand on the elf's shoulder before moving away to see to his men.

Devastated beyond measure that his friend's passing would be marked by no more lasting memorial than the tears he shed, the elf turned away from the cliff edge. The grief washed over him anew—a physical blow that caused him to stagger, and would have brought him to his knees had Gimli not appeared as if by magic to support him.

"Come, Legolas," Gimli whispered. "We must complete Aragorn's task for him. It is the least we can do."

The Prince of Mirkwood glanced down at his dwarven companion. Gimli was startled by the look on Legolas' face. The tears made the eternally young features seem childlike and lost. Gimli had never seen eyes so full of confusion, despair, and pain. It was only now that he understood that grief could kill an elf. The look in his friend's eyes seemed more deadly than a solid axe swing.

Lacking the words to remove that look from the elf's face, Gimli guided his friend to his horse. Legolas allowed himself to be led, and Arod, sensing his master's grief, nuzzled him gently as if in sympathy.

Gimli was just beginning to think he should find something to say, when Legolas seemed to pull himself physically away from the grief. Somehow, the elf appeared to gather his resolve and his considerable strength, and slowly lock the grief away. His shoulders straightened, his eyes shone with defiance, and gleamed with unshed tears. It seemed he remembered that their work was not yet done.

"Come, _elvellon,"_ Legolas all but whispered. "We have much to do for our fallen friend." He helped Gimli climb onto Arod's back and swung gracefully into position in front of the dwarf. Once securely mounted, Legolas urged Arod into a gallop and they rode on with Theoden's people.

***

The stronghold of Helm's Deep was a formidable sight, and, when coupled with the tales of heroic battles and the turning away of foes of overwhelming numbers, it seemed all the more the safe haven Theoden King proclaimed it to be. 

Legolas sat alone and unmoving feeling only detachment from the chaos that was Helm's Deep. The stone walls offered him no comfort, no safety. Cold, hard, stone could not offer solace to an elf. He felt cut off from the world, and unable to think of anything but his fallen friend. He stared at the pendant Arwen had given Aragorn, watching as the firelight twinkled and bounced off the rare elven jewel. As beautiful as it seemed, Legolas considered Arwen herself was infinitely more radiant and breathtaking.

He recalled now their parting at Rivendell. The Fellowship had gathered to leave, attracting a large audience of elves. He had taken a moment to bid farewell to the fair Undomiel, wondering if it would be the last time he would drink in her beauty. "Undomiel," he had said, noting the sadness that painted her features, "Fear not for Estel. He will return to you."

She had nodded sadly. "If that is his choice. If that be what fate decrees."

He had been puzzled by the answer, but before he could comment, Arwen had reached out a hand to touch his face, cupping his cheek in her tender palm. "Legolas, Son of Thranduil, take care. Many a treacherous path lies between you and the end of your journey." She had glanced then to Aragron, and just as quickly returned her attention to Legolas. "Look after him. He knows not what his heart desires. He fights his destiny."

Legolas had reached over and cupped Arwen's cheek in his own hand in response to her touch. "You have my promise, Undomiel. I will look after Estel and help him find his path. I will see him by your side."

She had smiled then, a sad smile and bade him farewell.

At the thought of Arwen and this broken promise to reunite her with her love, a new wave of grief crashed through him. He would have to tell her of Aragorn's fate, if she had not guessed already. She was, after all, the Lady Galadriel's granddaughter, and she was deeply in love with Aragorn. She may have seen his doom, or sensed it somehow. Regardless, he would go to her if he survived this journey and reveal to her the details of her love's passing. He knew from what he was feeling that the grief would devastate, perhaps kill her.

One tear fell from his eye leaving a wet trail down his cheek. Aragorn, Strider, Estel, Elessar, Thorongil, Elfstoneso many names his friend had borne in his life, yet never again would any of those names pass Legolas' lips without stirring this ache, this unspeakable feeling of loss.

He had felt something akin to this when Mithrandir had fallen in Moria, only to have it underscored at Amon Hen when he had found Aragorn leaning over the body of Boromir.

Now, to lose AragornHe had known Estel for decades; a short time in an elf's life to be sure, but with Aragorn, he had felt a kinship he had not felt before with any other being. The mortal had at times seemed very elven, and at other times oddly human. Whether the elven air was a manifestation of his Numenorean blood or a result of his upbringing in Imladris, Legolas had never determined. He knew only that he felt a deep, brotherly affection for this man who would be king. To lose Estel now seemed

"It is more than I can bear." Legolas' whisper in the common tongue escaped him without his consciously choosing to speak. Hearing the words aloud now, he heard only truth, and felt more alone then ever before in all his long elven life.

***

Gimli wandered through Helm's Deep looking for Legolas. They had separated when the stubborn elf had insisted on caring for Arod after the long, hard ride. He himself had been much in need of attention, and had found the time to find a bit of food and take a huge draught of water; Helm's Deep lacking the proper dwarven ale. He was sure he had let more than enough time lapse for Legolas to return from wherever it was they had decided to pen the animals.

He walked through the Keep glancing around for a familiar flash of blond hair. When Gimli finally found the elf, sitting so still and barely seeming to breathe, he almost walked by him thinking he was a statue.

Startled, he took a moment to compose himself and study his companion. The grief in the elven eyes was apparent, but the strength of it surprised Gimli. He'd thought the elf had found a way to live with it, at least temporarily. He was only now beginning to realize the depth of his friend's despair. Undoubtedly, the prince would be fighting it every day, if not every minute of every day. As he watched, Legolas took a shuddering breath and whispered, "It is more than I can bear."

Though dwarves were as capable of strong emotion—love, hate, rage, pride, joy, and sorrow—as any other race, it was the rare dwarf indeed who allowed himself to become close to those of any other race, elves least of all. This had made rampant the speculation that dwarven hearts were carved from stone—that, like the beings themselves, dwarven hearts were solid, strong, and unbreakable. Looking at Legolas, pale in the dim light, and sorrow etched upon his ageless features, Gimli felt his own heart breaking, thus proving the speculations false.

Gimli himself had been proud of his disdain for elves in general and for Mirkwood elves in particular. It often astonished him, when he gave himself leave to consider it, that he should count an elf as his closest friend. That the elf was the Prince of Mirkwood made him consider for the first time that the Valar had a great sense of irony, if not humor.

His people would later say that his time in Caras Galadhon had altered him—that a different dwarf had entered the Golden Wood than had exited. Gimli never denied this. Indeed, he laughed, recalling the beauty of the Lady of the Wood, and wholeheartedly agreed.

Now, upon hearing his dearest friend's words, and the heavy emotion that pervaded them like dwarves in a mithril vein, Gimli felt what he was sure was merely some small fraction of the heartache plaguing Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood. His heart skipped a beat as he wondered what he might do to ease his friend's suffering and keep his elven feet firmly in Middle-earth.

***

Legolas, much to his chagrin, was startled from his thoughts by the sound of Gimli's approach. The prince willed the anguish from his features, and might have succeeded in fooling a casual observer. Gimli, however, knew from experience the signs for which to search. Remembering how the Fellowship had tried to console each other at the loss of Gandalf in Moria, and again how he and Aragorn had watched the elf after Boromir's demise as they chased after the Uruk-Hai, it occurred to the dwarf how much this journey had cost them. If Gandalf's return from the dead, a thing that still puzzled the dwarf, had not expunged much of the elf's grief, Gimli was certain Aragorn's demise would have killed Legolas.

"Legolas," Gimli grunted loudly trying to put as much of his usual gruffness in the name. "I have been doing nothing but running and riding; I want to swing my axe. Come. I had hoped we could spar a bit."

Legolas felt the corners of his mouth drift upwards in a dry, humorless grin. "Is that what you had hoped?"

"Yes, yes." Gimli's impatience hastened his words. "There is much for which we should prepare. He sighed seeing in Legolas' face that the elf recognized the dwarf's concern. Dropping all pretenses, Gimli addressed that concern. "Legolas, you elves are too tender-hearted. To die of griefI had not thought it possible. An exaggeration, a mythbut youyou worry me, my friend."

"Tender-hearted?" Legolas considered the word as if he had never before associated it with himself or with his people. "I suppose we are, or can be. We are not all of us prone to such grief, though we all mourn our losses for all the untold lengths of our lives, the grief always as fresh as the first moment of loss" He stopped, taking in a long, slow breath. "Ai! Elbereth! To lose Aragorn now! He has been a brother to me for such a longand yet also a very short time. Never to hunt with him again, never to see him with his loveHis death I fear makes Sauron stronger. It will have an unimaginable affect in the days to come. It is as if a tree falls in the forest and hits another on its way, which hits another, which falls into another, bringing down tree after tree until all is in ruin"

Legolas' voice lost volume as he spoke forcing Gimli to stand stone still and barely breathe in an effort to hear every word.

"Legolasmy friendI know not what to say."

"Then say nothing _elvellon_. I have noticed the need mortals have to speak of their loss, to tell each other that things will be all right. If this is so, I do not see how. If mortals truly have the ability to live on after such loss, to live on as if thehas not occurred, or to have only pleasant memories and not the constant ache and pain of lossthen truly, they possess a strength far deeper than that of the Eldar."

Gimli stepped forward and sat beside Legolas having nothing more to offer than his presence, his understanding, and his concern. Together they sat, each lost in his own thoughts, but comforted by the nearness of his friend.

***

The tower guards had put forth the word that a rider drew near. Helm's Deep had the advantage of position that made it almost impossible to approach unseen. Legolas had raced to the battlements thinking to put his elven sight to good use. Focusing on the approaching rider, he recognized the man instantly, but thought his grief was playing with his mind.

Legolas' eyes lit up in disbelief at what he saw, and he raced towards the fortress entrance with graceful strides. 

He watched Gimli's reunion with Argorn, almost brought to the point of laughter when Gimli threw his arms around the Ranger. 

Legolas stood immobile in his friend's path, forcing the inattentive mortal to look up or walk into him.

Legolas could think of no words to express his delight. "You're late." Elven eyes took in his friend's appearance. "You look terrible." He offered a small smile, and held out his hand revealing Arwen's pendant to the Ranger. 

Aragorn returned the smile. He took the jewel and gazed at it in an odd combination of sorrow and relief.

"Thank you my friend. I thought it was lost." 

"As I thought you were lost." For a moment, memory of the recent pain from the belief that Aragorn had passed clouded the elf Prince's face.

Aragorn clapped a hand firmly on his friend's shoulder. "Then we were both in error my friend."

They enjoyed each other's company as Legolas led Aragorn to Theoden King.

***

The Three Hunters watched the arming of the forces of Helm's Deep and other preparations for the imminent orc attack. Notched swords and crooked arrows, poorly strung bows, and dull knives were handed out to the aging men and young boys with a sense of anxiety and fear that seemed a living, growing thing.

"Most have seen too many winters." Gimli observed in dismay.

"Or too few." Legolas added thinking to himself that even the old men were mere children in his eyes. "They are afraid. I can see it in their eyes." He turned to Aragorn switching to Elvish. "And they have reason to be! Three Hundred—against ten thousand?"

Aragorn listened to his friend, responding to his concerns in Elvish to keep the others from understanding what bothered the elf. The outburst surprised him. Legolas was an accomplished warrior. Surely, thought Aragorn, he was not afraid of superior numbers. Aragorn knew the elven prince had defeated such numbers before, though, granted, things had not been this dire.

They continued to argue, the Prince of Mirkwood, and the Future King of the Reunified Lands. Aragorn's temper rising at what he saw as elven hard-headedness in a situation with limited options. 

"They are all going to die!" 

The prince's horror at the thought was lost on Aragorn. Unable to stop himself, the Ranger switched to the common tongue and fairly spat his words at the elf. "Then I will die as one of them!"

Legolas froze for a moment, not a hair stirring. Then, he spun on his heel leaving his friend behind, all the while cursing human pride.

***

"We have followed you this far. You have not led us astray." His eyes searched those of his mortal friend, but he could find no indication of the man's willingness to hear what he had to say. He plunged ahead anyway. "I was wrong to despair. I ask your forgiveness." Legolas was ashamed of what he had said and how he had said it. He dreaded Aragorn's refusal, but would not blame the man if he did not forgive the elf.

"There is none to give, Legolas." Aragorn, still puzzled by Legolas' earlier conduct, would not withhold what Legolas clearly needed to hear. They clasped forearms, their camaraderie and sense of brotherhood restored.

Aragorn, though unwilling to lose the balance they had only just achieved, possessed a curiosity not easily denied. He hesitated, but in the end, had to ask. "Legolas, forgive me, but it was so unlike you. Despair or not, I saw fear in your eyes, and I know that fear and despair are emotions with which you are not overly familiar."

Legolas tried to laugh off his friend's concern. "Did you not see my fear when Mithrandir announced the presence of the Balrog in Moria?" The light, playful tone faded to be replaced by a somber one at his recollections. "I have never, in nearly 3,000 years, felt such fear. I hope never again to hold such an icy terror in my heart."

With sudden clarity, Aragorn knew, though he knew not how, what had prompted Legolas' words at the arming of Helm's Deep. _It was his heart that spoke,_ the Numenorean thought, amazed that it had not occurred to him before. _He sees the possibility of death all too clearly since Gandalf, Boromir, and I fell. Two of us came back to him, but it is the irretrievable loss of the third that haunts him still._

"Legolas" Aragorn never knew if Legolas stopped him because he somehow knew, in that uncanny way the Eldar possessed, what he would say, or if the elf had merely grown uncomfortable with thoughts of the Balrog.

"EstelLord Elrond named you rightly'Tis a battle we will soon fight the like of which neither of us has faced before. Ten thousand yrch, perhaps more, ride to us as we speak'Tis likely many of our company will not live through this night. You, _nin_ _mellon,_ you must! In man is the hope of Middle-earth. In you is the hope of man. Estel, my brother, keep this in mind and do not throw away your life needlessly."

Aragorn shook his head in refusal of Legolas' words. "Isildur's heir I may be, but you overestimate my importance to the fate of Middle-earth. If I were to fall, another would take my place."

"I doubt it not, but there is something you do not consider."

"What is that?"

"The one who takes your place may well be in service to Sauron. Nay, Estel, if you fall, so does Middle-earth."

"Legolas, it is Frodo on whom so much depends."

"Ahh!" Legolas smiled mischievously. "I said not that if you do _not_ fall, all will be well. There is a great difference between certain doom and certain salvation, and that difference often lies within the events essential to each. Frodo's quest must succeed, but so must yours."

Aragorn was growing more confused by the moment, a not uncommon result of speaking of serious matters with an elf. "My quest?"

"As I told Boromir," Here he paused, and a shadow clouded his eyes. Aragorn knew his mind flew momentarily to Amon Hen, and felt a surge of hope for the elf's future when Legolas shook it off. "You are heir to the thrown of Gondor. With Anduril, you will claim your birthright."

Aragorn shook his head. "I seek it not."

Legolas smiled gently and spoke as if explaining things to a not overly bright child. "It matters not what you seek, Estel. Your destiny seeks you."

"Elven riddles" Aragorn muttered, but not too softly for elven ears.

When Legolas did not respond to the open invitation to jest, Aragorn's eyes narrowed and he stared at the elf as if in deep contemplation. "How is it we are discussing me, when it was my intention to discuss you?"

The light-hearted sound of elven laughter pleased Aragorn. "_Nin mellon_, you have lived long among the Eldar. Have you not noticed that we do not often wish to discuss ourselves?"

The man nodded. "But you said you spoke from despair, and I saw fear in your eyes" He stopped when Legolas looked away. When he resumed speaking, his voice was soft and full of concern. "Legolas, I know your fear was not for yourself. I have never fought beside another warrior so brave as you. There is something else you fear."

Legolas turned to face the Future King of Gondor. "You know my fear, Estel, or you can guess it. My friends, the Fellowshipaside from Mithrandir and myself, all are mortal. Even Gandalf fell, though, thankfully, through the Valar, he was restored to us. The prospect of a world absent your friendship—or Gimli's—the thought of the hobbits wandering alone through Mordor to face Valar knows what, the thought of these—children!—slaughtered by the coming yrchthese things I fear. These things made me speak out of turn earlier. I am sorry, Estel. My heart came close to breaking, and I have not yet forgotten that pain, if ever I can."

"LegolasI know not what to say."

Legolas smiled. "You use Gimli's words, my friend."

Aragorn's laugh was a hearty one as good to the ears as it was to his voice. "I have no doubt! Consternation is a common ailment among those who count elves among their friends!"

"Does Arwen know you feel this way?"

"Aye, and she merely smiles that mysterious smile of hers whenever she knows I am thinking it!" Pleased the mood had lightened, Aragorn dared risk darkening it a bit. "Legolas, none of us may promise you we will not fall this night, or at some future moment. We are mortal. If one or more of us do find our ends, do not allow one death to cause another. Do not fall into shadow yourself and deprive such light as yours from Middle-earth and those of your friends who will remain behind."

"It is not by choice"

"You have a strong will, Son of Thranduil. Will yourself to live."

"I could say the same to you."

Gimli appeared as if from thin air beside the elf. "Fine, then we all say it to each other." 

He shook his head slowly as if in disapproval. "Elves and men think too muchand talk too much. We go to battle. We fight in our own defense and in defense of the good people of Middle-earth in one of the first battles of a war with Sauron. What more noble way to die than in defending the world from such evil? If we die, we die, but Sauron will know that we lived!"

Legolas laughed at his friend's attitude, which contrasted so sharply with the melancholy words he and Aragorn had been trading. "A dwarven approach to this battle might be most pragmatic! Gimli, you amaze me! Such philosophy!"

"Philosophy? Why speak you of philosophy? We have not the time for such things! Come, we must join the defenses. If you so desire, when we defeat these 10,000 orcs, then, my elven friend, we may discuss philosophy."

Aragorn and Legolas exchanged amused glances. "Truly," Aragorn began. "If there were no other reason to survive this night, that would be reason enough!'

"What would be reason enough?" Legolas wondered aloud.

The echoes of Aragorn's laughter chased each other through the room and down the corridor until all of Helm's Deep seemed alive with it. "To watch an elf and a dwarf discuss philosophy! I only hope I am able to take down the words, as I am sure such a discourse should be preserved for the ages!"

Legolas knew he should find a retort, but he could only smile, and though the smile still held a small tinge of sadness and despair, Legolas could feel it dissipating. He put an arm around each of his friends, and together they walked out to the battlements. The orcs could be seen, even heard in the distance, and Legolas was certain he could smell their foul odors on the air, but the Three Hunters were ready for the fight.

End


End file.
